


Read the Fucking Manual

by tuesday



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Bad Decisions, Bad Sex, Bondage, Consent Issues, Drunken Shenanigans, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Magic, Magic Alien Sex Toys, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spitroasting, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Uninformed Consent, Vines, Voyeurism, magic sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: In which Tony Stark did not RtFM, tries out his shiny new magic alien sex toy, and needs help turning it off.  Seriously, if it could stop coming in him, that would be great.—Tony Stark should have read the pamphlet that had come with his magic alien sex toy before he activated it.  He got that now.  A valuable life lesson had been learned—was being learned.  It was an ongoing process, one which had been going on for a little too long now.  He'd had fun, but he'd been ready to call it quits twenty minutes ago.  He wasn't sure it was physically possible to orgasm again, no matter how much his not-actually-a-sex-toy was willing to give it the old college try.  Plus, there was the chafing, not to mention his jaw was getting sore.





	Read the Fucking Manual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).



> Readers, I'd like to discreetly point at the tags again if you'd like warnings for anything. I'm including specifics on consent issues in the end notes, but I think the tags pretty well cover everything.
> 
> This is canon divergent from Infinity Wars. Stephen never gets kidnapped. The rest of IW unfolds differently. The important takeaway: Stephen and Tony are alive; Tony ends up single enough that he's getting sex toy tips from Valkyrie; and Thanos shows up nowhere in this fic.
> 
> Recip, I really appreciated your thorough letter and likes/prompts. I have done my best to include a number, but I especially went with "Oviposition/Egg Laying/Forced Breeding" and "Tentacles/Vines/All the Way Through (Bonus if the tentacles/vines ejaculate!)" though the vines/tentacles do not go all the way through. (They do ejaculate, though!) The general plot also very loosely riffs off of the prompt, "Tony gets himself into some mystical trouble, and Stephen Strange appears to help him out." I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you so much to Duckmoles for the beta! You are the greatest.
> 
> Redating for reveals. Sorry if you somehow manage to see this twice!
> 
> Personal notes: OPD: 6/30. AOD: 7/6.

Tony Stark should have read the pamphlet that had come with his magic alien sex toy before he activated it. He got that now. A valuable life lesson had been learned—was being learned. It was an ongoing process, one which had been going on for a little too long now. He'd had fun, but he'd been ready to call it quits twenty minutes ago. He wasn't sure it was physically possible to orgasm again, no matter how much his not-actually-a-sex-toy was willing to give it the old college try. Plus, there was the chafing, not to mention his jaw was getting sore.

FRIDAY had cheerfully informed Tony that this particular line of sexual aids—non-sentient, non-sapient magically-engineered tentacle monsters, okay? They were goddamn tentacle monsters programmed to act as organic fucking machines—had been enchanted to keep going until one of a number of conditions was met. His best bet at this point was someone performing the counter-charm.

Tony didn't particularly want to bring someone else in on this, but one of the other conditions was the aid, upon finding the right environment and after thorough exploration, laying a full clutch of eggs in the warm, moist orifice it had previously been fucking. No one had mentioned anything about eggs when Tony had bought this toy. Tony really would have remembered the possibility of being implanted with more mindless tentacle plant monster babies until such time as they were ready to hatch and go on to find a new stupidly lonely and/or horny host willing to start the process all over again.

Tony had been so, so stupid. And lonely. Stupid and lonely. Also, drunk, both when Asgard's king had suggested hitting up her favorite intergalactic catalogue order store and again when he'd decided oh, hey, just add water to get it started; how hard could it be to operate? Surely it was just as easy to shut it off when he was done. He was not nearly drunk enough for this now.

"Fuck Valkyrie," Tony moaned around the tentacle in his mouth.

"Calling Winged Vengeance," FRIDAY said.

"No, no," Tony said frantically, still slurred and nonsensical to the average listener. Fortunately, FRIDAY's ability to understand his words was perfect under any circumstance, even if her interpretation of the meaning conveyed was sometimes shaky. "Don't call Valkyrie."

Valkyrie picked up—only for FRIDAY to hang up on her.

"Fuck," Tony repeated. Right. This was a magic problem that needed a magic solution, but there was no way he was owning up to Valkyrie what had happened.

"Winged Vengeance is calling in," FRIDAY said.

"Ignore call," Tony ordered. Would he regret that? Probably. Was he going to change his mind? Absolutely not.

"Call ignored."

"Call—" Oh, he was going to regret this, too, but more immediately. "Call Dr. Strange."

"Calling Sparkle Motion," FRIDAY said.

"Unless you're dying, I'm busy. As you don't have any mortal peril scheduled until next month, you can bother me again then." Strange must be enjoying some personal time. He guarded it jealously, zealously—obsessive as a dragon perched on its hoard. He could be moved, but not without effort and corresponding risk.

Tony made some muffled noises that FRIDAY dutifully translated as, "I could be dying if I don't get help tonight."

"FRIDAY?" Strange sounded hesitant, confused. He never liked when he didn’t know what was going on, even if he liked new things. He'd probably be more of an asshole than normal when he showed up, but hey, it practically guaranteed he'd show. He was like a cat. No mystery gone unexplored, no box left unjumped in. Tony would really like him to jump in this box over here.

"Just get over here," Tony said, which FRIDAY relayed. "I'm in my personal lab."

A portal appeared in front of Tony. It revealed a frowning Strange to Tony. To Strange, it revealed Tony, naked as the day he was born (or his 21st birthday—or his 25th—or—or a lot of days, actually, no birthversaries necessary), taking it up the ass and down the throat by a magical plant monster that had grown to cradle his whole body in its tentacle-y grip. Tony couldn't tell if this was a good look for him. Strange was a tough crowd. One of those aforementioned not-birthdays, he'd wandered in while Tony was having a little alone time and said only, "There's a situation, and you're needed for it. You should probably put on pants."

Putting on pants was kind of beyond Tony right now. He gave a little wave instead.

"Interesting," Strange said, like he'd been presented with a puzzle with half the pieces missing and the rest chewed up and partially digested. With one word, he conveyed both his desire to solve the problem and his disgust with its presentation.

"Give him the pamphlet," Tony said.

One of the waldoes picked up said pamphlet and brandished it at Strange. Strange accepted it carefully. He read with an expression that rode the edge of mild interest and creeping boredom. He put it down.

"You're an idiot," Strange said.

Tony's mouth was full, but his hands were working just fine. Tony flipped him off.

"Did you even read this?" Strange didn't slow down. "Of course you didn't. You bulled straight ahead with no concept of what you were actually doing. By all rights, I should leave you there, let you learn an important lesson about messing with forces beyond your ken in order to get your dick wet."

Tony, as had previously been established, had already very much learned his lesson. Now the universe was just rubbing his nose in it.

"Are you going to help me or are you going to lecture me to death?" Tony said. FRIDAY kept translating. He should have kept his mouth—well, not shut, but sealed around the vine sluggishly thrusting all the way against the back of his throat and then back out to just inside his lips, not quite far enough out to give him the chance to snap his teeth shut. He kept going. "Because if you want to stand around and watch, there's a chair right there. Might as well sit for it."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Strange said. He sat on Tony's lab stool, his favorite one with the squeaky wheel he'd fixed that morning. "Maybe in an hour, you'll be more amenable to listening to those better informed than you."

"Oh, come on," Tony said.

Strange buffed his nails against his robes. "One of us will, certainly."

"Fuck," Tony said. He'd brought this on himself in every way.

"Maybe if you beg me." Strange was smirking now.

Invite a guy to bed once and, even if he turned you down in favor of you both saving the world, he'd hold it over your head for the rest of your lives.

The vines holding Tony's legs spread had loosened as Strange had stepped through, but now that he'd sat down and made himself part of the scenery, they tightened again, stroking and caressing Tony's thighs and rubbing against the boundary where his ass met his legs. The tentacle that held his dick hadn't changed its grip, but it did nudge at the tip, pushing at his foreskin. Not for the first time, Tony thought, _That is too big to fit_. He couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed. A band of vines twined around his chest shuffled around until they were rubbing at his nipples again.

The thing was—the thing was, Tony wasn't a quitter. He'd been going for hours before he'd gotten desperate enough to call for help. He really couldn't go again. He literally could not get it up. He had nothing left to give. He had been properly dicked—tentacled—down, emphasis on down. It wasn't happening.

Strange clasped his hands in front of him, fingers steepled against his chin. His eyes trailed Tony's body in a long, hot sweep. Tony was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and other, sticky fluids he was trying really hard not to wonder about—could plants that laid eggs jizz? Because it felt a lot like plant monster jizz—and held up like he was on display. Hell, he _was_ on display, intentional or not. Strange had a perfect view as the tentacles at Tony's mouth and ass resumed their previous motions, pinning him at both ends.

Despite himself, Tony's body was reacting. His nipples perked up at the abuse, never mind that they'd been rubbed raw. His stomach muscles jumped as a smaller appendage wound its way across his dick and prodded at the slit. This one—oh shit—this one might fit. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as it wriggled his way in. He was back to choking on the tentacle that was encouraging him to deepthroat it by dint of forcing its way a little deeper every time. And the one in his ass? It had never. Let. Up. It was pistoning steadily in and out, in and out, and Tony couldn't help but wonder when it would be enough, when it would start to lay the eggs. Tony had found that moving only encouraged it, but he couldn't stop himself when he started to squirm. There was too much to concentrate on. Everything was oversensitized. Every inch of skin from his scalp to his heels thrummed with each heartbeat. He was going to die. This was going to kill him.

"Very interesting," Strange contributed. If not for his burgeoning semi, Tony would think him unaffected. He stood, but this time the plant monster kept going. "I believe I'll take you up on your previous offer."

Not even FRIDAY was capable of translating the moan that meant, "That was a limited time deal, asshole."

"The only question is—do you want me to do so now?" Strange circled Tony and the plant, the cape of his cloak floating behind him. "Or would you rather I wait until it's pumped you full of eggs first?"

Tony held up his hand to repeat a message that needed no translation.

Strange hummed, an undaunted and upbeat sound. "After, then."

Yeah, Tony deserved that.

Strange returned to his perch on the stool. He was patient. When Tony came again—because he may have had nothing left to give, but the plant was programmed to take beyond his ability to provide—Strange did nothing even as the vines eased off again, as the tentacle in Tony's throat eased back so he could—sort of—talk. Strange waited. Tony stared at him, disbelieving, and Strange stared back, amused, serene. The vines tightened once more. One looped around Tony's throat and gently, tentatively, squeezed. The corners of Strange's mouth curved the tiniest bit up.

"I should have let those aliens kidnap you," Tony said. When FRIDAY repeated this, Strange's tiny smile transformed into a full-fledged smirk.

"Do you think you'll pass out before or after it's done depositing its young?" Strange asked carelessly, like this was an academic question of no personal concern.

"I think I'd better be awake when you fuck me," Tony said.

"Your preference is noted," Strange said. He leaned forward. "I'll keep it in mind."

Tony would have loved to have a snarky one-liner in response to that. It was all he could do not to give in to the floating feeling waiting to carry him away, to drag him under the waves. The reprieve was shorter this time. His mouth was dry, and the tentacle in his mouth dribbled out something wet and cool to ease the way. Tony tried not to worry about it. If he were allergic, it was far too late. He'd had it rubbed into his skin hours ago like the world's weirdest lotion. He'd bet his penthouse that his ass was full of the stuff.

So this was how he died. Fucked to death by a poorly labeled magic alien sex toy while a sometimes ally watched. Tony should have read the fucking manual. What sort of engineer was he? Tony tried to work up some real ire or at least some minor indignation. He was hot all over. His fingers and toes tingled like he was going to lose the feeling in them any minute now. His sinuses ached. His eyes throbbed. He thought he'd burst some blood vessels with that last orgasm.

Tony slumped into the grip of the vines holding him aloft. They curled closer in response. Tony didn't so much as twitch. After a couple minutes of petting at his limbs, the vines shifted suddenly. His head had mostly been upright before. Now, he was yanked up on one side and down on the other, ass in the air, head by his knees, bent double. If Tony weren't limp, he didn't think he could stretch this far. He did his daily time in the gym—or as good as, even if no actual gym was involved—but he could barely touch his toes unaided these days.

It was easy to contemplate his unexpected flexibility when the other option was thinking about _why_ he'd been moved.

There was the shift of fabric on fabric. Strange had stood. Tony heard his footsteps approach, though he didn't get close enough to physically interfere. Strange cleared his throat.

"If you don't want to play incubator until however long it takes to get the eggs out of you, now would be a good time to speak up."

Tony was gagged. Literally. The only control he currently had was suppressing his gag reflex so he didn't choke to death on his own vomit. He could barely breathe, much less make himself understood.

"Wave a hand," Strange said. "Twitch your fingers."

Yeah, that was out, too. Tony was all out of energy. There was no moving, only being moved like a pornographic puppet held aloft on organic strings. There was even something up his ass, though it wasn't a hand moving around in there.

"Anything," Strange said.

Tony closed his eyes. It wasn't like Strange could see his face. And, well, even if he could—Tony wasn't a quitter. He'd come this far. He was going all the way.

"Very well." There was the swish of fabric. Strange had turned on his heel. He retreated to the stool. "I can't say you make things boring, Stark."

If Tony could, he would be laughing right now—hysterically, but still laughing. Then the tentacle up his ass bulged—grew—and the urge to giggle at the absurdity of his life left him. He groaned. He couldn't say it was a good sound. He couldn't say any of this was good. Then again, he couldn't say it was bad, either. At this point, he was a creature of sensations, of feeling, of trying to ride the crest of it so he wasn't overwhelmed. It ebbed and flowed, a tide coming in a little closer, a little more with every repetition.

"Though I remain undecided whether this was worth interrupting my first night in in ages," Strange said, voice receding as Tony filled up.

The waves had reached Tony's ears, crashing. Or maybe that was his pulse. He felt like he'd been taking uppers with downers, like he was a dumb college student again accepting everything any asshole frat boy thought it was funny to hand him. Grey edged at his vision, spots encroaching from the sides. It was too much, too fast. Inexorable and terrifying. He told himself he could do this. It wasn't like he had a choice. Might as well see where this ride took him. He was mixing his metaphors. The ride was still going, but the track ran out. Tony went down with it. He didn't go down in flames; he drowned.

Tony couldn't say how long it had been. Long enough that when he came back to himself, he was laid out on the lab floor. There was stiff linen underneath him. He was belly-side down. His arms were stretched out at his sides. His legs were parted. Hands spread his ass cheeks. Tony thought about protesting that he'd said to wait until he was awake. He rethought it. He was awake. Let Strange do what he wanted. Tony didn't care.

What Strange wanted, apparently, was to stick an actual hand up Tony's ass—or at least a couple fingers. Strange felt around perfunctorily. Conversationally, like he was picking up a thread of conversation recently dropped, "You're lucky you're not injured. This thing wasn't designed with humans in mind. An Asgardian would be starting round two right now according to the user's manual." Strange's touch turned softer, became less business-like. "No tearing. Good. Still up for another go?"

"Not with the plant," Tony said in a rough rasp. FRIDAY had to repeat after him.

"If you wanted another go with that thing, I think I would have to step in as a former doctor and a friend." Strange's fingers had switched to stroking now. "I'm not entirely certain you couldn't have used an intervention."

"Lived, didn't I?" Tony said.

"Not the usual bare minimum people strive for in their recreational sex," Strange said dryly. "But who am I to judge? You don't have any condoms, but I'm still tempted. And I _know_ what's been there before me."

"FRIDAY," Tony said. He wasn't a quitter. "Tell Strange where the condoms are."

Strange really couldn't judge. He retrieved the condoms. He put one on. He knelt on the floor, put his hands on Tony's hips, and nudged his dick between Tony's asscheeks, the tip already sinking into Tony's hole like his body was begging to be filled.

"Okay?" Strange said.

"The plant was better," Tony said.

Anything else was lost with the sudden punch of Strange pushing his way in. It wasn't gentle. It didn't need to be. Tony had acclimated to something bigger. It was almost nice, kept him from feeling empty. Ugh. Had Strange gotten the eggs out? Tony hoped Strange had gotten the eggs out.

A distant part of Tony thought, _Still not the worst sex you've ever had_. At least this got points for novelty.

"I have seen some weird things in my time as Sorcerer Supreme," Strange said, voice unflatteringly flat despite the way he was pumping in and out, skin slapping together every time he drove home. "But I have to say, Stark, this was really, really weird."

"Hot, though, right?" Tony asked in a breathless and gravelly voice. He was going to need all the lemon, honey, tea, and throat lozenges. He was never talking again after this. At least, not for a week. A couple days. Maybe the next two hours. He was shutting up right now. "You can go harder."

That got a laugh, buried in the back of Tony's neck. "You have no sense of self-preservation."

"One of my better qualities," Tony said.

Lips pressed soft against the back of Tony's neck in contrast to the absolute reaming he was experiencing elsewhere. "I couldn't say. I'm honestly afraid you'd take anything as encouragement at this point."

"That's encouragement," Tony said.

"Sassing me should not be a turn on." Strange said that, but he didn't last long. The sex toy had made a better showing, and it didn't have a brain. It didn't even have a working central nervous system without the intervention of the magic directing it. Strange groaned, "You're terrible." Didn't keep him from coming, though. When he pulled out, he said, "Shit. I think the condom broke."

Tony pressed his face to the floor and laughed until he tasted iron.

Strange sighed. "Laugh all you like. We're both going to need to get tested now. I blame you if we contract intergalactic STDs."

"Next time," Tony said, "no plant."

"I never agreed to a next time," Strange said.

***

Strange hadn't gotten all the eggs out. They had to consult Valkyrie. Tony had _known_ he was going to regret setting her call to ignore. Valkyrie made him regret everything. Mostly by laughing at him.

"You—you didn't read the instructions, did you?" she said in between long, pealing laughs.

"I'm an engineer," Tony said. This sounded exactly as stupid spoken aloud as it had sounded in his head.

"Midgardians," she said with disbelieving amusement.

***

Strange hadn't agreed to a next time, but it did happen again—without the plant. It was nicer, if less intense. Strange expressed the opinion that he was open to a repeat performance.

"We can still pull old Leafy out for special occasions, right?" Tony said.

"No."

Strange didn't have to participate. Tony wasn't a quitter and he didn't need the manual. Tony was sure attempt two was going to go much, much better. At the very least, Tony would remember to set everything up for filming ahead of time. Science required documentation and repetition, and that was an experiment that needed to be repeated.

"We can't, because I burned it. That abominable thing is ash now," Strange said with no small amount of satisfaction.

That was fine. Tony remembered where he'd gotten the last one. Maybe he wouldn't even pass out during the oviposition process next time.

"I'm going to come visit only to find you unconscious with a bunch of eggs up your ass, aren't I?"

Tony gave a noncommittal sound.

Strange sighed. "You're supposed to give someone more than a week before you make them regret agreeing to date you."

"You knew exactly what you were getting into," Tony said.

"Yes." Strange petted at Tony's hair. "I suppose I did."

**Author's Note:**

> Wrt consent issues, in further detail if it makes a difference for you: Tony cannot turn off his mindless magically programmed personal tentacle plant toy. When Strange shows up, he is generally zero help with the situation. When he asks Tony later if he would like it to stop, Tony is physically incapable of answering or indicating in any way that yes, actually, he's done. Strange has sex with Tony at one point even though he's not in a good place to give consent. Tony states several times throughout the story that he's fine with whatever's happening, but he also gives several clear indicators that he's in distress. Also, well, the tentacle plant monster has no ability to give consent, but then again, it's a plant monster without a brain or even central nervous system, only reacting as it was magically programmed to like some kind of organic computer. 
> 
> Essentially: it's not just with the tentacle monster. There are consent issues of varying levels the whole way through. It has a happy ending as far as Tony's concerned, but 95% of the story is Tony in distress and attempting to bull through it.


End file.
